


Command Structure

by tzigane, Zaganthi (Caffiends)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: BDSM, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot, Shaving, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-07
Updated: 2007-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tzigane/pseuds/tzigane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffiends/pseuds/Zaganthi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every two months, Captain John A. Sheppard made the hundred mile drive from Edwards AFB into L.A. and the Millennium Biltmore Hotel. He always started the drive with a hard-on, and it was never any better by the time he arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Command Structure

Every two months, Captain John A. Sheppard made the hundred mile drive from Edwards AFB into L.A. and the Millennium Biltmore Hotel. He always rented a car for the drive -- something fast and black with a V8 and a speedometer that only topped out once his foot hit the floor. It was usually a two hour drive in the night, when traffic was as slow as it got in Los Angeles, free and clear to go fast and do nothing. Think nothing.

He always started the drive with a hard-on, and it was never any better by the time he arrived.

John left the car with the valet and went in with one bag. It was all he needed; toiletries, a change of underwear, a few extra things. When he checked in, he always had the right I.D., the fake one that he'd set up years before at a Mexican grocery store when he'd been stationed deep in Texas, and he provided the credit card that went with it.

Nobody had asked any questions yet. He figured they probably never would. After all. This was the only thing he ever used it for.

It was the best stress relief he'd ever come up with.

The thing about hookers was that they were generally discreet. Sure, if he ever made it to four star general facing a senate appointment to anything, they'd all come out of the damn woodwork, but he didn't think he'd ever get that far in his life. He was a nobody, and there was nothing to gain by ratting him out. It wasn't like anybody would ever be able to swear for certain it was him, because Jose had probably been replaced by Jesus, and Jesus had probably gone back to Puerto Vallarta and left everything for Ricardo. John wasn't exactly a stranger to the way thing worked in places like that. His dad had spent most of his own command in Texas, and General Sheppard hadn't paid much attention to his kid or the fact that he was learning Spanish in between feats of impossible mathematical computations and joints out by the skating rink.

"It's good to see you again, Mr. Gutierrez. Mr. McIntyre arrived earlier and he's in the bar."

Yeah. He was predictable. So what?

"Thanks." John gave her a lukewarm smile and palmed his ID and credit card. Since his divorce, he hadn't bothered giving women much time or attention. He hadn't been good with the one, so what the hell would make anybody think he'd be good with another?

This one was a little different than his usual taste, and he was going off of pictures from the internet, but he was looking for something a little...

Different. A change of taste, like ordering a different cut of steak than he usually did. There were just a couple of people at the bar, and he hoped that the guy in the crisp white shirt, with his elbows leaning on the bar, was Mr. McIntyre. He seemed professional, neat whiskey placed in front of him. John couldn't make out his face, so he couldn't exactly be sure until he marched over and introduced himself.

"Um. Jack Gutierrez?"

John turned slowly, and he couldn't stop the rise of one black brow. Okay. Definitely not what he'd been expecting, if he was honest about it. This guy was... well, he seemed barely more than a kid, if John was honest about it. He was wearing a sweater, his hair almost blond and a little longish in the back. He had blue eyes, a thin upper lip, and a gently squared jaw, a nose that tilted up at the end just a little.

Definitely not the professional type, going by the sweater and the chinos.

It wasn't a bad sweater. It was kind of thin-looking, and maybe the guy was reaching for sexy with it. Maybe, just maybe, it was a breakaway sweater, but he was pretty sure that only Jose had owned clothing that did that and seemed normal at the same time.

Jose had been kind of like that.

The guy smiled, waiting for John to say something, obviously, and it was a crooked smile, tilted in a way that seemed to say nothing and everything all at once.

"Rod. Rod Mc... Intyre." Yeah, not exactly his real name, but so what? It wasn't like it mattered, not really. They didn't have to be honest about things like names, not when they were going to be a lot more honest with their bodies. The guy wanted to be fucked for money, and John was pretty willing to give him money in exchange for everything else the guy had agreed to do. "Do you want to join me for a drink? Was it a long drive?"

"Not much longer than usual," John drawled, slinking forward, all hip and thigh. It was best to start right from the start, so he stepped into Rod's personal space, using his small height advantage to take control of the situation. "I don't think I want a drink right now. And I don't think that you need one." Yet.

Yet. He might need it later, but not just then. That crooked smile twitched, and he could see the way the guy's chest rose, almost a surprised hitch. That smile was real, though, so the guy was definitely responding to his tone and posture. "Then we should probably get out of the bar."

John flicked his fingers gently, bringing a keycard into sight. His was the only one, although the desk usually offered two if more than one person was staying in the room. "I want you to turn around and walk to the elevator. Press the button for floor ten." He wanted a good view of Rod's ass, and he had a feeling that he wouldn't be disappointed. The guy went along with it with hardly a baffled look at him as he started towards the elevator. He definitely had a nice ass. It was round, and full, and maybe it was muscled and maybe it wasn't, but it was definitely present. It was the kind of ass that ought to be offered up, wagging in the air for John to do all of the best things to, the kinds of things that would make him very, very happy.

He followed 'Rod' -- and if that was even close to his real name, John would slurp down the tube of lube in the bottom of his bag -- to the elevators. He watched one square fingertip press the '10' and eyed the other man's hands. They seemed capable, and they seemed nervous. His fingers twitched, twisted, hands balling and unballing into and out of fists as they waited.

There was no way for John to keep from smiling a little at that.

If he was the guy's first trick, he was going to die of delight, because John had too many ideas to be anything but traumatizing for a real newcomer. The guy had claimed he'd done it before, but maybe that was just a claim. It didn't lessen the fact that when John stepped up behind Rod, it was close, it was tight enough that he could almost press his erection against that sweet ass. If there hadn't been people coming out of the elevator, he probably would have.

"Go forward. Close the doors as soon as we get in," he murmured against that ear, one of those sandy curls tickling at his lips.

He was good at following orders, and it wasn't in that loose-hipped, trained whore way he was used to. He stepped forwards, barely turned around, and jammed his fingers hard against the close door button. "Anything else I should do?"

"Yeah," John said, pushing him hard against the side of the elevator and shoving his hips against Rod's ass, rocking into him. "You should let me do anything." He nipped at the back of Rod's neck. "And everything." One hand slid around to cup Rod's groin. "I want."

He heard Rod's voice catch in his chest, heard him pant and felt him press his dick against John's gripping hand. "Oh, fuck, I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Really." It wasn't so difficult, sliding the heel of his hand down hard, pressing, one hand reaching up and closing slowly around Rod's throat. "Do you think you can do everything... everything. That I tell you to do?"

John felt Rod swallow. "Yeah. I think I can." Seeing was believing, and he was going to test Rod's limits on everything he could creatively come up with. He got one night like this every couple of months, and he was going to make the damn most of it.

Maybe he wouldn't traumatize Rod too much. Maybe...

"Good," John murmured, thumb stroking slowly over the vibrant pulse beating wildly just beneath his jaw. He'd shaved close, and John would bet good money that he didn't have to shave often. Not with hair that color, not with skin that felt ridiculously soft, well-protected, beneath his fingers. "That's what I want. That's what you were expecting, isn't it?"

The elevator gave a faint ding, and the doors slid open to reveal the hallway of the tenth floor.

"This is what I was expecting," he agreed, voice almost an echo of John's in tone, because he was still pinned against the inside of the elevator and the doors were wide open for anyone to see.

Gently, John let his hand move away, pushed the button to keep the door open for them. "You didn't bring a bag." That was good. Good enough. He'd told Rod that he should trust John to bring what they'd need, and John was glad that he had.

"You said you'd come prepared." And if he was a smart whore, first time or not, all he had on him was enough cash to get a taxi ride home, and maybe a car key. Probably some pepper spray, tucked into the top of his sock with the other things since John hadn't felt it in his pocket.

"Come." He took Rod's wrist and pulled him, his own bag still slung over his shoulder. The doors almost closed on them, and then decided against it once it sensed them there.

He led Rod down the hall, his wrist firmly clasped. They had a room at the very end, and John always made sure that he had enough to pay for the room beside it as well. Some things weren't meant to be heard, and if that meant he could only make the trip six times a year, well. He'd take that for the privacy he was sure to get. Otherwise, he might have had people banging on the walls, or calling the police just because they couldn't tell the difference between consensual sex and nonconsensual sex. The place was opulent enough that everyone thought the world revolved around them just because they were there. "At least I don't have to do small talk, huh?"

"You can talk all you want. You can beg. And you can plead. And you can let all the filthy pretty things out of your mouth you can imagine. Hell. Maybe even that I can imagine. You can even say no if you want to." John let his mouth curl up, a slow, cruel expression that would probably send the guy running if he wasn't up to it. Best to be sure now. "Won't make any difference, but you can say it."

"I want a safeword." He lifted his chin, a flash of something almost defiant in his eyes. It told John he at least wanted to try the challenge.

"All right." Okay, because it'd be stupid to say no. It'd be stupid to go without one, too. It wasn't like they knew one another, or knew the right boundaries. "We'll talk about that. Before."

Before, and he used the card, opening the room and leniently pushing Rod inside.

Rod seemed to slow, taking the room in. It was pretty opulent, but John had been in their rooms before. He knew what the furniture roughly was, even if it wasn't the same room as the time before, and he'd already sketched out a mental plan during shifts of duty. The bed was wide, a king with a padded bench at the end. There was a seating arrangement, a desk, the usual amenities. An armoire hid the television, and the bathroom was neatly tucked just behind the entrance door.

"Go sit on the bench at the end of the bed."

It was a shame that Rod sitting down stopped his view of the man's ass. But he sat down, all seemingly nervous energy as he leaned on his palms, waiting for John to tell him more.

"I'm going to unpack this bag now." John said it slowly, quietly. He locked the door behind him without ever turning around, always watching Rod. "And when I'm done unpacking the bag, I want you to take the things that you don't want me to use, and put them back into the bag."

He'd see if he agreed. He might take a few of them back out, all the same, and then they'd discuss what Rod would say when he wanted to stop.

"That's fine." He wanted to give the guy some choice, some options as to the general direction of his submission. He'd said he was open to kink and rough sex, and, well. John hoped he'd meant it. There wasn't enough time to find a really good replacement that he knew wasn't a cop.

Okay. Time to pull things out.

John set the bag at the head, near the pillows, and started with each carefully packed item. The first was simple enough -- nipple clamps, Y chained to a cock ring. It had come with a metal ring to start, but he'd carefully added another latex one for a snugger fit, one that better suited his purpose. The second was equally simple. He tugged out a silk bag with rubber-tipped clothespins, each one carefully wrapped around by a small, silky rope knotted so that each tug would pull the pin loose, no matter how tightly he had it applied.

Third, he laid out an under the bed restraint system, because it was easy to use in hotel rooms, and less damaging for everyone in the long run.

Fourth and fifth came a vibrating urethral sound and a wartenberg wheel, followed by a small tub of water based Boy Butter. A vibrating glass nubbed dildo of Pyrex came out afterwards, and finally he pulled out his favorites -- one heavy, old-fashioned belt, the kind that double bucked, and a black leather paddle, nearly a foot and a half long.

There were other things in the bag, of course -- personal items, grooming items, his own toiletries. One thing Rod had no choice in was the fact that he would be hairless from his groin to his ass before they even started, so he didn't pull out the electric trimmer or the nude shaving lotion. Not yet.

He watched Rod watch him, kept sneaking glances to see Rod's reaction to each piece of equipment. He shifted when he saw the belt and the paddle, reached down and adjusted himself. "I don't think any of that needs to go back."

"You're sure." It was statement more than question because that was what John wanted it to be. "And you're sure that this is what you want."

"With a safeword, yes." Rod looked over it all again after he said that, and added, "Should I start to undress?"

"Not yet." John walked around the bed, sat down beside him. "How often have you done this?"

There was a hesitation. "Enough to know what I'm getting into." And maybe he only said it that way to tease John, because there was something about being pretty early in a guy's experience list to bump up the ego.

"What's your word for slow down?"

"Tequila." He lifted his chin again, like he was daring John to challenge him on it. Just the way he moved made John want to bend him over, want to slick his cock and slam into Rod so hard that he'd have trouble sitting down for a week.

"And your word to stop?"

"Kahlua." Words that weren't likely to come out of his mouth unless he was ordering drinks down at the bar, so he at least knew it was better than color associations. John had tried with yellow and red, and people tended to say the words that went with the traffic light colors when they meant to say the color.

This, he thought, was a much better way to start.

"Tequila to slow down. Kahlua to stop." He'd remember them, because it wasn't like they had the kind of bond that could afford forgetting them. "Stand up in front of me and undress. And I want you to tell me your favorite fantasy while you do. The one that makes you come harder than any other fantasy."

Just so he could get a taste for the guy's real wants. It was a pretty absurd question, and it did seem to catch the guy off guard while he stood up and moved to be in front of John. "Uh... I, uh, I have a running fantasy involving a back alley that runs behind my apartment building. If, if, and this is a huge if, it weren't a place for constant drug deals, I'd like to..." He pulled the sweater over his head in one quick motion, and there was a little flexing of his muscles. Nice, workable. He was pale. "I have to walk through it on the way back from the grocery store. And it's narrow, so if someone were to follow me, I wouldn't have much of an escape route. So I fantasize about someone pinning me down in that space, and making me suck their dick."

"And that gets you off. Sucking unknown cock." There was a faint sneer in the way he said it because that was... well. Fairly mundane, actually. John was pretty sure that had been covered in some kind of seventies sex manuals about women's fantasies.

Rod's cheeks started to twinge red as he moved hands to unbuckle his belt. "No, it's the forced part. It actually gets pretty complicated, up to and including being walked to my apartment at gunpoint, and uh..."

"Keep going."

He could see Rod's hands shaking, his tongue darting out to moisten lips gone dry. Fantasies being what they were, they often included things people wouldn't actually want done. The knowledge was helpful, though.

Rod had a tendency to make the mundane extreme, it seemed, and that was good to know. He unbuckled his belt, and slid the zipper of his slacks slowly down. "It gets a little blurry. Your general forced gangbang, I suppose. Me over my desk, and no choice but to take what they give me. Fucking me with their cocks, sliding a hand up my ass, the gun..." He was breathless, and his dick was hard when he started to slide his pants down, revealing tight black briefs. Cotton, okay, which was sort of boring, but at least they weren't tighty whities.

That was something.

"The gun?" John stood, ignoring the fact that Rod was still kicking off his shoes, faintly tangled in his shoes and socks and pants.

"Tracing over my skin and sliding down, and then him fucking me with it." Him, them. It kept shifting, and maybe Rod harbored that fantasy a lot. Or, or it was something that had actually happened to him, which implied that he was a head case to have twisted it up into a sexual fantasy, but that was between Rod and whatever public health care he had access to.

For John's part, he didn't think that was the answer. He thought it was something else altogether, and he nodded. "Go get two towels out of the bathroom. Fill the ice bucket up with hot water."

He'd let Rod test what level of hot water he preferred, and hopefully it would be hot enough for the shaving part of things. Rod left his clothes in a pile, and picked up the ice bucket on his way to the bathroom.

While he was gone, John laid out the rest -- shaving lotion, battery operated trimmer, straight razor. He took the straps that ordinarily rested under the mattress and wrapped them around the bench legs, one carefully braided around each, leaving them open to hold Rod down when he returned. John could tell by Rod's walk that he had no idea what the hot water and two towels were for when he came back. He wasn't a really hairy-chested guy, but he had a nest of au naturale hair around his cock, and heavy on his thighs. There was no stopping the steady, easy curve of his mouth. "Give me the water and place the towels here, at the end of the bench. Then lie down on your back and put your hands over your head."

He had to be getting a clue about what was going to go on with the bench, but Rod did as he was told, laid the towels at the end of the bench. When he laid on his back, he stretched his arms up over his head, and John heard his back crack a little with the motion.

It was the work of a matter of seconds to set the water on the floor beside the bench. John gently looped the restraints at the middle of his forearms, tying them together to keep him from pulling too much -- just enough, really, to keep him still and give him the opportunity to struggle, if he wanted. Rod's legs, he parted, cuffing him just above his knees. Those, he strapped down tightly into place, and then stood, looking down.

"Comfortable?"

Rod stretched, tested the bindings of his arms, and arched his back. "Yeah."

"Good."

It was the only question John asked before he reached down and cupped a handful of warm water, spilling it down over the slight softness of belly, watching trickles of water spill through the sandy dark curls there. He reached down, smeared them through until they were all damp. Then, he reached for the battery powered trimmer and turned it on.

"This turns you on?" Rod shifted, and seemed to hold his breath in anticipation.

"Actually?" John pushed his thighs open a little further, settling between them. "I just want you bare before I start."

The first pass did little more than get rid of the curls, and John was methodical about it. He started on his right and moved to the left, gently pushing them up onto that pale belly as they were removed. It left behind short hairs, perhaps a quarter inch long. He was slow, and careful, and he knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted Rod bare, because it made manhandling him so much easier. There was no worries about things catching on hair if all the hair was gone, and the skin was newly bared and sensitive. "You have all of this planned out, don't you?"

"There are ways I like things. If you've got a problem with it, you know how to make it stop." The trimmer continued, careful around the edges of Rod's cock. He was hard, even with his smart-assed response, and that made it easier. It also made it easier to get to his balls, and then to get behind them. "It'll itch for a few days afterwards. For now...." Well, it'd get uncomfortable, but that wasn't John's problem.

It was all Rod's problem. Rod craned his head up, watching John. "No, it's just interesting. I've never done this. Tell me you don't have a straight razor that comes next."

There was no stopping his smile, again. Pretty amazing, really. Most of the time, he didn't. The kinds of guys who showed up for these assignations tended to be timid, to say yes, sir and no, sir, and please, sir. On occasion, they said things like daddy, and that just kind of made John queasy. This? This was so much better. "If I told you that, it would be a lie," he said easily, and parted the checks of Rod's ass to begin doing away with the course, stray hairs there, as well..

"Now I'm scared to move." Except that he did move, tipping his ass a little, up to make John's job easier. The guy had probably cleaned himself ninety ways to Sunday, but he hadn't anticipated shaving.

"Don't worry. It's not my plan to hurt you like this." He blew away the last of the curls and stood, moving to the bathroom and coming back with a wash cloth. He dipped it into the now warm water and carefully washed away the stray hairs before he reached for the shaving lotion.

Rod inhaled, and exhaled in a slower, shaky breath. "I never thought of shaving as something sensual."

"Guess you've learned something new."

John warmed the lotion between the palms of his hands, watching the faint tremble that began to make its way along Rod's limbs before he laid his hands down. He smeared the lotion, slow and easy, tender along the areas of already shortened hairs.

"Yeah. Not going to argue you there." His stomach shivered for a moment, and he kept his head craned up to watch what John was doing. It was seriously better than the guys who laid there like puppets while John did the shaving.

"Ready?" He reached out and gently lifted the straight razor. It had belonged to his grandfather, and his father, and now it was his own. He had a razor strop that he used for other purposes since there were better ways to sharpen the razor these days. He hadn't brought it with him. That was for more personal use, in his opinion.

One day.

Maybe.

Maybe. That was sort of a cross that bridge if it ever existed thing, if he ever dropped out of the military and settled down. He didn't have that much longer to retirement, not really. Time zipped by when he was working.

"Ready."

The first stroke went with the hair. No point in causing any more discomfort than necessary later, John figured, and if they ever did it again... well. Maybe Rod would get the idea that getting himself waxed wouldn't be a bad idea.

John might even want to learn how to do that, just to hear him yell when the fabric strips were pulled off.

It could be pretty interesting, actually, and something to consider for the next time. If there was a next time. Well, the next anyone. Rod exhaled, and laid his head back on the bench. "Whew. You do know how to use that."

"I know how to do a lot of things. And I wouldn't do it if I didn't know how." Another stroke, and another, slow and careful. He was completely bare, and John lifted his cock, stroking gently. "I'm going to shave your balls now, and then your ass, and then..." One finger slid between Rod's cheeks.

His breath caught, and John felt him clench his ass against that finger. Nice, now that was tight. "I think I can get into that."

"You'll be uncomfortable. Later." Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Careful with the loose skin, pulling it gently, making sure that he got close, making sure there were no nicks.

Making sure it was smooth.

"And I don't care," John murmured. "Although I'd like to see it. See you squirm. See you clench in your seat."

"I've had some chemicals take the hair off my arms. I think I can imagine what it's going to feel like growing back." Aching and itching and twitching, but he was going to cope with that after the fact.

"Spread further." As wide as he could. John could put his shoulders between Rod's legs, and he probably would later, but for now... for now, the willingness was enough. There was a willingness, a fascinated _'I can't believe I'm doing this'_ sort of willingness that John liked because Rod spread his legs, hitched up his ass as if in offer to John, and John was going to take it.

He used more lotion, and remained careful with the razor. Tiny hairs around the rim of Rod's hole were the hardest, and he whimpered when John worked on him, making John pause. He had to, had to look up, had to see the way his mouth trembled, had to see the crimson flush on Rod's face and the way that his head fell back against the padded bench, his eyes closed, lashes trembling visibly against his cheeks.

"I like to see you this way."

No pleas of daddy, and no _'stop stop, no'_ , just bearing it, feeling maybe the scrape of razor on wrinkled skin as a painful thing, but there was no blood drawn. John was more careful than that. Rod's cheeks burned bright, and the red crossed over the bridge of his nose and crawled down his neck.

By the time he was done, he could hear the desperate short pants for breath, could feel the way that Rod shook beneath his palm when John placed the first gently on his thigh. "I'm going to wash away the remains now, and then I'm going to wash your skin down with alcohol. It's going to burn, but it will help prevent razor rash later."

"Ingrown hairs hurt worse." And it would be worth it to watch Rod go tense and shiver for different reasons than anticipation.

John took the washcloth and rinsed it out, leaving it heavily damp as he solicitously washed away all of the remaining hairs and lotion before standing. There were other things in the bag, things he hadn't pulled out, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol was one of them. "Lie still."

Rod still wasn't still-still, but he didn't shift and squirm. He held still, but clenched his muscles in anticipation.

The white lid spun off easily and he laid it on the bed before kneeling down between Rod's spread thighs, holding them open with his shoulders. Carefully, John cupped a hand beneath Rod's ass and raised the bottle, tipping it and pouring.

He'd maybe been expecting a dabbing, or a dribble, but the pouring caught him off guard from the way he gasped and the word 'fuck' caught on his tongue, half-uttered. Holding still wasn't much of an option when his back was arched and he was shuddering, beautiful just like that.

"It works better this way," John murmured conversationally. "I promise to blow on it to make it better."

"Oh, oh, god, I think, fuck, that only has to make it worse, fuck, fuck!" He twitched his hips to one side, and it only made his cock bob comically in the air.

Leaning forward, John pursed his lips and blew, concentrating on Rod's asshole. He could see it twitch, and when he tried to move away from that, John reached under his thighs, placed bruising hands on his hips, and held him still. The rest of the bottle spilled over Rod's crotch with the change in John's grip. It was a shame, except it wasn't, because Rod went tense all at once, and that sound he made was past a gasp, past a shocked sound, and into startled pain.

"I like the look of you when you're suffering," John murmured conversationally. "You're going to be beautiful when I beat your ass."

"Oh, oh, god." Rod's body shuddered, lowered half way back down onto the bench. "Hn, this is almost too much..."

"Wait." Wait, because he had the right words. The ones that would make things stop. John hoped that he didn't use them, because this, just this, was making him unbelievably hard.

He righted the bottle and slid the cap back on, going into the bathroom for a dry towel and leaving Rod where he was, panting, shifting uncomfortably. God knew it wasn't a pleasant feeling. Just a light application put on with cotton balls or a damp cloth was enough to take the breath away, never mind in some of the places John had outright poured. He'd be glad of it later when nothing ended up infected and there were no ingrown hairs. It'd itch like hell then, but. Maybe he might splash a little rubbing alcohol on it all over again when he was alone in his apartment, daydreaming about rough sex.

Daydreaming about John.

He came back and patted the skin dry, noting that Rod's cock was still rock hard. "I'm going to untie you. I'm going to smooth some lotion on you. And then, I'm going to let you choose what I do next."

"Okay." And then he'd probably tie him up all over again, depending on what he chose. It could be interesting to see what Rod considered a sexual warm-up. Maybe the paddle. Maybe the strap. Maybe the pyrex dildo, and yeah. John wanted to see his ass open up, wanted to see the rim of that hole spasm and clench when he pushed it inside.

John was easy when he released Rod's forearms, his thighs. The way he stood, shaky, giddy, made the ball of lust in his belly thicken. "I like you this way. Bare. Soft." He closed his hand around Rod's dick and heard the whimper he gave in response, felt the rock of his hips.

"Oh, god. Why?" Not why, in the whiny way, but why because maybe he was interested in John's kink. Who knew?

"Come with me." John took his wrists, one and then the other, held them behind his back. He pushed Rod forward, ignoring the damp towels, moving to the bathroom and the full-length mirror there. "Look."

He laid a hand on Rod's cock, stroking it slowly. "Look how big you look. How smooth." His thumb rubbed the head, teasing at him. "Imagine how you'll look when I slide the first cock ring... here." John cupped his balls. "The second one here...." Back to teasing just below the head. "When I clamp your nipples, the chain running between them."

"We could move to that now." He exhaled shakily, pressing forwards against John's traveling fingers.

John bent his head and placed his mouth at the nape of Rod's neck and then slowly, deeply, bit. It was almost vicious without breaking the skin, hard enough to bruise, to make Rod give the most delicious noises. "You want to begin there, then."

"Yeah." He wanted to begin there, and John was tempted to leave him standing in front of the bathroom mirror while he put it in place. Make him watch. Make him see everything with those bright blue eyes, glittering and dark with lust. More than tempted.

"I want you to stand here. I want your hands clasped at the small of your back when I come back. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Yes, he understood, but would he follow along? Maybe, maybe not. John turned to leave, and he hoped Rod would be waiting and ready and still hard when he got back. For the most part, he had no doubt that would be the case. The fact that he'd enjoyed himself so far was... It wasn't unusual by any means, but there was something, some sense of enjoyment that he had gained in the last fifteen minutes that he hadn't gained in any of his previous engagements. Maybe it was Rod's reactions. Maybe it was all in that. He picked up the cockring with those chains that connected up to the nipple clamps, and when he edged back towards the bathroom he could see that Rod had his hands folded behind his back, watching the door in the mirror's reflection.

"You're not bad at obeying orders. Sure you aren't military?" John couldn't help smirking, and that was something different, as well. The amusement level of Rod was greatly appreciated, even if it was just in the little things, the small reactions, the fact that he held back absolutely nothing.

"Ninety nine percent sure. Although I've been told that it's a quick way to get American citizenship, I think I can continue to pass on that. Nothing like an American passport to make you an international pariah." Maybe the babbling was nerves, but it still made John smirk wider. Rod's dick seemed attuned to his pulse, perking a little now and then from too much blood flow.

John slid behind him, one hand reaching up to his shoulder. The cock rings slithered down his chest slowly, the clamps held tightly in his hand. "I'm going to put this on you. And then I'm going to clamp these." He let the chain brush over one nipple, watched the way it perked immediately. "Tight." They were hard little buds that stood up straight right away, and he let his finger wander around it in a lazy circle.

"Okay."

Okay, just like that, so John slid his other hand down over the muscle of Rod's flank, taking the metal ring into his hand first. He slid it over the tip of Rod's cock, where it was much too large, and smiled to himself as he pushed it down. Still too large, but he got it to the balls and slowly, slowly, pushed Rod's first testicle through it.

He could see the flare of those blue eyes as he realized the second one would barely squeeze through, and that it wasn't going to feel very good.

"That might be overkill," Rod murmured, leaning back against John. He didn't say slow down or stop, though, and his lips were parted.

"That might be perfect."

He was careful when he pushed the second testicle through the ring, but not too careful; just rough enough so that he could feel Rod's thighs come together, pressing hard, his back go stiff as his breath hissed between his teeth. Oh. Fuck, yes.

"Fuck." Fuck, but they were through, bare and stretched in their contortion, straining against his hard dick. That was why he shaved Rod, so he could enjoy that moment and watch Rod watch himself bare and body twisted as John liked it. When he slid on the rubber ring and pushed it down to midway and tightness, he didn't even seem to notice until it was done. That was pretty good, too.

"I like your balls like that. Look at them," he murmured in Rod's ear. "Red. Aching." He trailed his fingers over them, and then pinched the skin between them, hard.

No words this time, just a whine, just Rod's voice sliding back to a whimper and his hips jerking back, pressing his ass against John's crotch.

"We'll get there." That was a promise, and more than a promise. His ass was sweet, just as sweet as John had thought it would be when he'd seen it from behind. He was glad that it hadn't been the guy in the white shirt downstairs.

Besides.

There was no way that guy could have had nipples like this, already standing at attention and waiting for abuse.

The best part was that Rod was still hard through it all. His foreskin had peeled itself back and it was like it hadn't been there at all because his cockhead was straining for attention as much as his balls were straining against their confinement. "Hn, you're trying to drive me crazy..."

"Is it working?" John couldn't help sweeping his gaze up to watch him a little more closely in the mirror even as Rod's head dropped back on his shoulder. He dragged the chain up, warming the adjustable clamps on the skin of Rod's belly as they made their way closer.

"Yeah." And he had to be watching from the corner of his eyes. There was no posturing, no tempting come-hither gestures to him to goad him on. Just Rod's head on his shoulder and his body taut and ready.

"Do you like it?" John whispered in his ear, cupping the clips in both hands and reaching for Rod's nipples. They were perky, hard under his fingertips, and he flicked first one and then the other, going back and forth for a few seconds before he pinched the left one.

Hard.

"Y-yeah." It was a bare catch in his words when John gave that pinch, but it was there, a gasp that he smothered down with words.

"Tell me."

Tell him, because John loved to hear it. He wasn't good with words himself, sucked with emotions. He'd been married, and that had been a fucking disaster. They'd fought like cats and dogs -- money, some, work, some, sex, mostly. Two people couldn't be in charge in the bedroom, no matter how much they thought it might work if they just tried.

He twisted that nipple and then brought the clamp to bear, lightly, so lightly, before he gave the flat screw a twist and heard Rod's gasp turn to a desperate whine.

"It feels, jesus, it hurts and it I like it, and what did you do, get these things custom made?" His head lolled on John's shoulder, face turning in towards John's neck. "Fuck, fuck."

"Shhhh." Not that he wanted Rod to be quiet. Fuck, no. That was just... it was part of what made it good, just like rubbing his fingers gently around the clamped nipple. "Shhh. You're beautiful. Just look." Standing there weak-kneed and using John as a crutch to keep standing, his dick hard and those thin pretty chains connecting his clamped nipple to his distended balls and constricted dick. Beautiful was only the beginning.

"Hnn."

"One more," John promised, nuzzling at the curls just behind his ear. They were sweet, so sweet, and fuck. He'd never felt so attached to any one night stand, never so fast. "One more. Are you ready?" It didn't matter. Not really. He was already pinching the right nipple, plucking at it, and when he put the clamp on, he started it off tighter before ever making the tiny spin of the screw.

He heard Rod's voice more than he felt the way that his body went tight and pressed back against him hard, almost in a struggle that Rod clearly didn't want to happen. "Fuck!"

"That's right. That's just right." Because that was one of the things that was going to happen, but this, this right here, this was perfect. John reached down, pinched his balls again, a little less carefully. "Look at you. Look in the mirror. Tell me what you look like."

"Like, hn, like someone who wants to get fucked?" Or a whore, yeah, but apparently Rod didn't have the usual self esteem problems that went with the job, and pressed his balls up into John's hands with a little cant of motion. "Oh, god."

"Is it good?" Yeah. It was good. It was incredibly good, John could tell, and he leaned in, sucked a mark on the side of Rod's neck, just below his ear. "Is it what you wanted? Tell me what you want next. I'm going to do so many things to you, you're going to...."

Collapse from it. Come or want to come more times than he'd probably thought possible. John had him all night, and he was going to use that, going to make the most of his time. "Strap me. I want you to beat my ass..."

"This ass?" His hand slid down, slapped it hard, right cheek, then left, barely enough room for him to do it. "Do you think I should let you tell me how many licks? You wanna make a request, McIntyre? Or do you think I should just beat it until I think I'm done?"

There was a hesitation, and then Rod lifted his chin a fraction, looking blearily at himself in the mirror. "Until you feel like you're done."

"Do you want to know what I'm going to do with you?" His voice was soft, breathed against Rod's ear. His fingers stroked over those clamped nipples, touching the adjustable screws every now and then, making him shake as he waited to see whether John would twist them again. "I'm going to take you back into the bedroom and I'm gonna tie you to that bench again, face down. First just your hands.. I'm going to take that tub -- the boy butter. And I'm going to slick your hole. I'm going to put my finger in you. Just one. Then? I'm going to take the dildo. The big one. I'm going to put a condom on it, and I'm going to fill your ass with every inch I can slide inside."

That shaking had turned into trembling, head to toe, but his cock was wet at the tip, almost dripping. John reached down, slid the foreskin carefully, gently, with two fingers.

"Then I'm going to take your underwear. I'm gonna slide 'em up over your legs. I'm gonna tuck your balls above the band. I'm gonna slide the legs up between the cheeks of your ass to hold in that dildo, and I'm gonna turn it on high. That's when I'll bind your legs. And then?" He kissed Rod's cheek, so sweetly. "Then I'm gonna let you choose. The belt, or the paddle. I might give you what you want. I might give you both. I might beat your ass until you won't be able to sit down tomorrow. And you can say no. And you can say please. And you can say stop. But McIntyre?" John traced his tongue along the outer shell of Rod's ear. "I'm not going to stop until I'm damn good and ready."

It was like he'd said the damn magic words, because Rod turned his head a little, shaking, and tried to kiss John. Not that John was going to let him, not just then, but he could tell from the way Rod's dick twitched that all of it turned him on, no matter how much he was whining. "Please..."

"Please what?" John asked, tilting his head away from those lips. "Please no? Please stop?"

There was almost a laugh, and Rod stayed still this time. "Just, just please. Please, please, let's get started, please, you're driving me crazy..."

"That's what I like about this," John admitted, a quiet murmur in his ear again, far away from those tempting, crooked lips. "Knowing that you're going crazy. Knowing that you're suffering....."

"From inaction," Rod vaguely accused, mouth twisting unsteadily. "Please..."

John let him go with one last twist of the clamps, making him sob and rock forward, then back. "Go get rid of the towels. I want your legs on either side of the bench and your ass hanging off of it."

He didn't move right away. Rod lingered, whining in the back of his throat for a moment before he started forwards, away from John, and back to the bedroom. His dick had to hurt, and his balls had to ache and twinge with every step. Never mind his nipples, and John fully intended to tighten those clamps again before all was said and done.

Pausing, he washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror. There he was, all blown pupils, a high flush across his cheeks, and a guy in the other room who wanted -- demanded -- to be abused in all of the ways that made John hard. Made him want. Made him wish that maybe he didn't have to do this just every couple of months, that maybe... He dried them off and turned sharply from the bathroom, past the mirrored closet door and out into the bedroom proper. If he could do that any time he wanted, he'd do nothing but. He wouldn't be able to function or think, he'd just, god, he'd want it all the time and that was why it wasn't possible to go that way.

Rod was waiting for him, hands stretched over his head. It had to pull at his nipples, and his legs were slung just the way John had wanted them.

"God, you're..." Everything, he didn't say. Couldn't say, because it was as if his mouth had just stopped, stopped moving when his brain stopped thinking, really. "On second thought, stand up." Yeah. Yeah, because he had an idea, and he went to the bed, stripping off the pillows. They could get more later.

"Jack..." Rod's voice was a plea, but he did it. He sat up slowly, curled up, and stood unsteadily.

"No, no. It's a good idea. Honest." He was already raiding the pillows, plopping two down on the bench at the end where the pillows had been, keeping the last two in reserve. "Now. Come here."

Come there, because it was just a step. That was all. Just one, and Rod's entire body trembled as he made it.

He made it, dick bobbing from the motion of getting up and walking, still hard, still just beaded a little at the tip with pre-cum. It was like liquid eagerness, just waiting, and John couldn't help reaching out to thumb it.

"I'm gonna tighten these." One hand rose, hovered over Rod's nipples. "And then I'm gonna get you to bend over and put your hands on the bed first, so you can look at the dildo while I open you up. You like that idea better, maybe?"

"Oh, god..." Rod swallowed, and gave a jerky nod. His attention was all focused on John's threatening fingers, or maybe the promise of a little extra tightness added to the clamps.

Maybe the fear of it, too.

That was when John couldn't resist anymore. That was when John kissed him, and his fingers worked the screws, releasing them just that little bit more, tightening them that slow, tiny bit. He did it because he wanted to hear Rod's response, yeah, but mostly he wanted to taste it, and Rod didn't disappoint him.

He was vocal, right against John's mouth, a gasp and a choke when the pressure eased off, tingling pain John was sure, and then another cry when he twisted them back down that tiny bit. Hardly any change at all, but so much stimulation in a slight, easy motion.

Fuck, he was something. Something special, something different, and god, this had been the best idea John had ever had.

"Bend over and put your hands on the bed. Right where the..." The dildo was, yeah. Big and made of ribbed Pyrex, the head alone looking like something that would worry John even when he wasn't about to get his ass whipped cherry red. Broad, and the best part was that it vibrated, and he could just turn it on and leave it that way once it was in Rod's ass. Rod tipped his head down once he was bent over, hands braced against the bed. He shifted, spread his legs a little like he remembered after the fact that John might like a show.

Oh, God, yeah, John liked a show.

The Boy Butter came in a tub. It was water soluble, but the name alone had made John laugh when he'd seen it, and he'd bought it for that and liked it ever since. He coated two fingers instead of the promised one, extra-slick, and then he put a hand on the small of Rod's back.

"Ready?"

"Y... yes." Whether Rod was ready or not, John was going to shove it in, and that was the pleasure of it. Maybe he was ready for that but he wouldn't be ready for something, and John was going to press on, catch him off guard and he didn't think there was going to be any use of the safewords.

"Good."

Good, and he reached forward, pulling one cheek to the side and watching Rod flinch. Watching him shudder, watching him wait, and then... Then he slid his fingers in, both of them, hard and solid. He could feel the flinch, heard Rod's cry, saw the way his hips shoved forward and then pushed back, and oh. Fuck yeah. Fuck. He was hungry for it, he wanted it. He wanted it bad, even if he didn't have much prep, even if he was caught off guard. Rod's voice was wordless, caught in his throat, ohs and grunts, breathy exhales while he fucked himself on John's hand, and when John reached forward and pulled the dildo out of Rod's sight, Rod whined like the greediest whore he'd ever had.

"Yeah," John hummed, hammering those fingers in hard. "It's what you want. You want your ass full, you want my belt tearing you up, making you cry, making you want to cum...."

"Oh, god. Yes, please, please, Jack, I want..." He wanted it, and that was so much better, when his partner's dick stayed hard and beautiful and weeping, balls strained and red, ass shaking with every hard backwards motion.

"You want it fast?" John wondered. "You want it slow, ring by ring by ring, sliding into your hole so you feel every fuckin' inch?"

"Slow. Slow..." Rod whined, voice ragged as he stopped pressing back against John's fingers.

"Slow." It was a promise, and he pulled his fingers out, and pressed the head just at the edge. It was room-temperature, but cold, cold against that heated flesh, and he pushed so slow that Rod gasped hard when it actually slid inside, almost as if he couldn't help but be surprised.

It was hard, and it had no give at all. There was no need for give, not as far as John was concerned, because he could see Rod's asshole struggle, clutch and clench against the unyielding Pyrex. He was writhing, trying to pull away, trying to push back, undecided, so John decided for him. He slid it in a little deeper, another ring, and then another, and then a third, and Rod's face was buried in the bedspread, hiding sobbing whimpering cries that made John want to come already. Too soon. It was too soon and he wasn't going to get to do half of what he wanted to do with Rod. Maybe he could. Beat his ass, fuck him, then rest for a catnap's worth of time. He wanted to use the whole bag on Rod, everything, because Rod hadn't wanted any of it put back away, and he'd been prepared for not everything being on the guy's to-do list, but it had been.

Well.

Everything he'd brought with him, anyway, and seriously. Seriously, that was just... it was all completely fucking amazing, and by the time he got it all the way in, the black ridge where the battery casing rested, Rod was making sounds that were enough to get John off without anything else at all. Strained sounds that wove in with needy ones, and he was hitching his hips forwards against air, like he wanted to rub off on the sheets or fuck something, any stimulation, even with his balls and cock restricted.

"I want you to stay still. I want you to keep this right where it is while I get your underwear. You got that?"

"Y... yeah." His voice wavered, dipped and struggled, but he said it. He agreed, and there had been no pleading for John to stop.

God, fuck. Perfect, perfect whore, and he'd found him on the goddamned internet. Who got that lucky?

John slipped to the side slowly, leaned over and untangled Rod's black briefs from his chinos and came back, kneeling down. He could see where the dildo slid into that sweet hole, and it made him want... He leaned out and he pulled a cheek to the side and ran his tongue around the edge. He could feel the reverberation through Rod's body when his arms shook, could feel him try to press back against John's mouth, and the whimper Rod gave to that lick was sweet.

"Later." It was a promise as much to himself as to Rod. Instead of licking more, he prodded at one foot, getting it lifted enough to slip one open leg of the underpants over it and to the ankle. He repeated the motion, and then pulled them up, slow and steady over Rod's thighs. Rod leaned, standing with his legs as straight as he could, like he was bracing himself for whatever John had coming next, and it was a doozy. He got the briefs pulled up, tucked hard behind the metal cock ring, and then he slowly, almost cruelly, pulled the legs, pulled them all, until the material stretched between the cheeks of Rod's ass, holding in the dildo tightly. Once he had it in place, he twisted the control.

All. The way. On.

It was beautiful to watch, beautiful to see while he took a step backwards, watching Rod's knees knock together hard, and his position just fall to pieces at the sudden seizure of vibration in his ass. John knew the thing moved like a gas trimmer, and only got better and better.

He laid his hand on the small of Rod's back, stroking slow, gentle, easy. "You tell me when you're ready. When you can."

He shook his head, and then dropped it to hang between his outstretched arms. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, this is..." Too much, too beautiful. "Yes. Go, oh, fuck."

John leaned over him, pressed his lips against Rod's ear. "Can you stand? Can you move enough to drape over the bench?"

Rod moved, pressed back against John, and his body seemed to seize, ass pressing against John's hips and giving that vibrator just a little shove forwards. "I, hn, I'll try?"

"Or you could just stay here." Yeah. Yeah, that would be good. Make him stay there. Tell him to keep his hands still, force him not to reach back and cover himself, and... "Can you keep your hands in place? Your ass?"

"Uh-huh." It was going to be a lot easier to fuck him in that position than the other, than draped over the bench, and that was one of his ultimate goals. Getting his whore for the night to pass a test of endurance, well, that was just a plus point.

So many things to choose from, so many things to do, and honestly? John was packing half of his shit back in the bag, and he wished, he wished so much, that he'd brought that razor strop instead of the double-strapped belt. Most of the stuff, he just pushed off of the bed, because he was going to want that space sometime, but that he held carefully. He wrapped the buckled ends around his hand, careful, tight, and then folded the rest just enough to make a loud, leather snap.

"Until I feel like I'm done," he prompted, reminding Rod what he was asking for.

There was another shaky nod, and Rod's ass shifted and seemed to vibrate with Rod's tiny uncomfortable shifts. "Until that."

He didn't ask again.

The first strike didn't hold anything back, didn't pull any punches. It left a solid red streak across both ass-cheeks, and John aimed it to hit the end of the vibe, pushing it in and probably making Rod's eyes roll back. He wished he had the balls it took to videotape this, because watching that face would be the best thing ever.

Next time, and god, he hoped there was a next time of sex like that. Rod was making choked noises, squirming his ass back and forth, and god, was that a sob?

"Tell me."

Tell him, because he fucking liked to hear it. He wanted to hear it all. He wanted Rod to talk, to tell him everything, to spew it out from crooked lips so that John would know everything.

"I, I can't, it's... fuck, so thick, and it doesn't stop, and it's too much, fuck, fuck..." Fuck had to be Rod's favorite word, which John wouldn't have guessed from the chinos and sweater.

"You said until I was done," John reminded, and he struck him again. This time, the belt fell neatly at the crease of ass and thigh, and Rod's hips rocked. It was desperation, John knew -- it wasn't like he hadn't been hit there a time or three in his life, even if it wasn't like this. It still hurt like a bitch.

"So hot, god, that stings. There's no, no give in the dildo, and, fuck, I want to come." That was less of a plea, and more of a demand, even though John was sure that Rod's face was damp.

"You don't get to come. You don't get to come until I say so. You. Don't. Get." A lick with the first sentence, one that crossed his thighs. Another with the second that struck up, catching one cheek. One with each of the last three words, and fuck, yes, straight across the end of that vibe.

Rod's voice broke somewhere in his chest, and he jolted forwards, arms shaking. "I, hnnn, I think I can taste the, the damn thing."

"Later, you'll be tasting me." Another one, downwards this time, straight up a thigh so that the tip slapped hard at the bottom of one of those cherry-stained cheeks.

They welted up beautifully, a light rise of bright rich red against pale skin, against the black fabric of Rod's briefs bunched up like a thong along his ass. There was probably some flag out there that looked pretty similar to that. "Want to. I want to suck you, please..."

"When I'm done."

Again.

Again. God, he wouldn't be able to wait much longer.

One more stripe, and Rod's ass, both cheeks, would be the same even shade of red, the same cross-crossed pattern of raised welts. Two more stripes, and he could do that and slam home the dildo one more time.

"Ready?"

He'd better be ready because John was going to give it to him. Fuck, was he going to give it to him.

"R, hn, ready." Ready for more or something different or even for John to just finish it, maybe, but he hadn't said the slow down or stop words, and John wasn't sure he could if Rod did.

Once, with everything he had in him, from the shoulder; and then again, and he thought Rod was going to fall over then, that he was going to break; that it would be all he could take, even as John dropped the belt and reached forward, pushing hard on the dildo, his other hand cupping the blistering heat of Rod's ass.

"Perfect."

"Please, please, Jack, please, I want you. I want you, I want to taste you or feel you, please." Every word was punctuated with a hitch or a noise, but Rod didn't pull back from John's hand.

"Choose."

Because fuck, yeah, he'd love to be in that mouth, but there was that ass, all of the heat of it, the burning from the stripes of his belt. He wanted Rod to tell him, though, and it sounded... yeah. Oh, yeah.

"F, fuck my ass." Perfect, just what he wanted to hear, just what he wanted to do to Rod. He wanted to fuck his ass and keep him wound up tight.

John pulled at the underwear, delighting in the yelp as they came down over red skin roughly. It was... it was great, it was so fucking hot, and when he pulled the vibrating dildo out and then pushed it back in hard and good, he got another of those sounds that made him want to do things to Rod that were so far beyond obscene John wasn't even sure he knew how to describe them. He wanted to try to find a description just so he could tell Rod about it before he did it to him.

"God dammit!"

"Tell me," John demanded again, slapping Rod's ass. Fuck, fuck, fuck that was great.

"It's so deep, and so, so hitting my damn prostate, and I want to come, please fuck me, Jack, I want to feel your dick, I want you in my ass, please, please." Rod's head tossed, up and down, moving in the same desperate motion as the rest of his body.

Yeah. Oh, fuck, yes, that was enough, and so he pulled out the vibe, didn't bother getting the underwear any further off, and then he pushed. Rod was still lube-slick and open, fucking open and hot and ready, and John reached around and pulled the nipple clamps off just to see what he'd do.

It was a lot more hear and feel than it was see, because Rod arched back against him, pushed himself back onto John's dick, and gave a stuttered yowl. The best part of it was the way he clenched around John, back muscles trembling, like his body thought there was any way that it was getting John out.

"Fuuuuck!" Yes. Fuck yes because his ass was clamping like crazy, and he was rocking, pushing, shoving, and John had his hand around him, pinching both nipples, reaching for his dick, and it felt really fucking good. He got a hand on Rod's dick, squeezing hard, jerking him off even though there was no way Rod could come through that cockring, not with his balls pushed up into it. It made Rod squirm and whimper, struggling to hold back sobs. "Tell me." It was a demand, not a request. It was funny. It wasn't something... wasn't anything, actually, that he'd ever asked the others. It wasn't anything he wanted to know, not from the others. From Rod... From the man with the nipples he just kept stroking... He wanted it all, and that was kind of stupid, actually.

All was something John couldn't have, but he wanted it.

"Hurts, fuck, fuck, it hurts, hurts so, so, ghh--" John twisted one nipple, and squeezed Rod's dick, and Rod seized up, bucking back against John. "Fuck my ass, please, please move, get me out of this, hn, this ring, please..."

"Want to come? Want to clamp down, wanna hold my dick so tight you'll scream?" John growled. He reached down, stroked that cock, pried at the metal ring. One ball. One ball out, and then the other, slower, easier, gentler, leaving just the plastic one around his cock.

"Yes, yes, I want to, please, please, fuck, oh god." Rod gasped, trying to curl in against himself, pushing back against John's dick.

"Tell me. Tell me." His hand pulled, tugged, stroked, and the band came up, up, up and then off, sliding over the tip, and Rod was going to come. When he did, John was going to go with him.

Rod clenched hard around him, bucking back and forth between John's dick and John's hand and then back to John's dick. "So deep, so close, so, I want to come, tell me I can come, fuck." He was going to whether John said anything or not, and if John had him all the time, he'd tell him no. He'd tell him no and watch him come apart anyway and then he'd punish him for it. It would be everything he ever wanted, and he couldn't have it, so he made the only decision he could.

"Come! Jesus, fuck, come!" Because he wanted to be the one to say it. He wanted to be the one who let Rod get there, go all the way, wanted to be the only one.

He was in full and total control, and he could feel when Rod went off like a firecracker, clenching hard around John, spasming as he came all over John's hand and the bed he was leaning on. John rode it out, rode him out, two, three, four more strokes, hard and vicious and intense, and then he choked out a word or four or fucked if he knew because it was so perfect. It was everything.

Rod's arms were shaking and they were somehow still up, off of the mattress even with him pressed hard against Rod's back.

"Come on." His brains weren't working, God, they were made of mashed potatoes practically, but John wasn't the kind of shit who wouldn't take care of the person he'd just... Yeah. "Come on. On the bed. Can you... on your belly?" He'd catch his breath. In just a minute. He'd get it together.

He'd definitely get it together in a while.

Rod shifted, did just that, sort of moved forwards and sprawled sideways on the mattress. John scrabbled for a moment, trying to make his mind and his limbs go back to working. He searched through his bag and managed to find the rich crme lotion that he kept for this particular purpose, shaking fingers prying open the top. "You were...." Yeah. He'd manage it eventually. He'd put the words together. Somehow.

Unbelievable. He was unbelievable, with limits that were further than most other pros, and John wanted to keep Rod somehow. He wished he could, as dangerous and amazing as it would be to do that. "Mm. Felt so damn good."

"Lemme. Lemme check you." Check him. Rub lotion into the more abused bits, make sure he hadn't broken skin. John liked it when they hurt and cried and begged for more. He wasn't much for bleeding. He really liked the begging, the demands, and he wondered what it would take to get Rod to really cry, ragged endless jags that were different from the sensation high sobs he'd heard.

"Sure..." Rod shifted, limp-bodied, tried to move a little higher up onto the mattress.

"You, uh." John cleared his throat and blinked his eyes sleepily, stroking his fingers together once the lotion spilled out and then rubbing tenderly against Rod's chafed, irritated nipples. "You're... really pretty incredible."

"You were fantastic." It sounded mellow, with Rod arching up a little so John had some space to work, since he seemed content to lie on his belly.

Yeah. Well. John knew that. More or less. "Yeah. I, uh. I travel a lot. Don't have time for something more regular, but... if I did...." Yeah. If he did, he'd want to do it to Rod. He'd want to keep him all the time. He'd want to take that razor strop, and use it to get the kind of crying he wanted.

"You can tell me when you're in the area any time. You don't even have to pay me. Mm." Rod stretched his arms a little, and it wasn't the most athletic picture ever, but it was hot. It was the kind of hot John wanted to keep.

"If I could. I'd, uh..." John wished he was better at words. He watched as Rod wilted, lying out flat on his belly, and John coated his hands in more lotion, the thickness of it spreading over the red of Rod's ass, his thighs. That ass would be worth.... maybe not giving up flying, but it would be worth a hell of a lot. The regulations were a pain in his ass, without any interesting instruments. At least Rod seemed okay, comfortable, with his silence. He shifted, minutely, luxuriating under the motions of John's hands, even though they had to burn like hell. "If I could," John said finally, "I would want to keep you. Keep you chained to my bed, waiting for my strap. Waiting for me to fuck your beautiful ass. Waiting to hear you give me smartass remarks and... and I'd wanna. Bring you breakfast in bed. Things like. Like that."

Rod gave a quiet laugh that John could almost feel in the palm of his hand. "I could live like that. It's not possible, but if it were, I would."

"Close your eyes. You've gotta be exhausted." John knew he was, knew that the endorphins had to be making the world spin, making him more and more tired.

He was tired. He was high from the rush of what they'd just done, and Rod had to be twice as blown out with exhaustion. It was all worth it, and they could rest for a bit, and then maybe...

Maybe he could use that vibrating sound, after all.

Rod closed his eyes, and turned his head, resting his cheek on his arms, and John crawled up beside him. There was semen all over the bedspread, but he managed to get it out from under them both, managed to get the sheets on top before he pulled Rod close.

Yeah.

This one...

This one he was keeping as long as he could manage.

* * *

  
He'd been shot at by a chickenshit Scotsman, and if he'd known that it was a warning shot across the bow of his mental ship on its maiden voyage through a sea of tranquility, he would have damn well said no to the General.

Except he hadn't. There was no reason for him to say no, and a lot of cool reasons and career reasons to say yes, even if he didn't have much of a career left to speak of.

The weirdness didn't stop, though, because he'd seen Rod there. Speaking of careers and having something left.

They'd met a couple other times before John had shipped out to Afghanistan. Rod had mumbled something about Nevada in a dreamy sort of murmur against John's shoulder one night, the marks from the Sheppard razor strop laid in solid pink and red lines from the backs of his knees to the top of his ass, a couple still white and welted over his slim shoulders. If John had known then what he knew now, maybe he would have reconsidered the desperation to fly that made him stay.

That last night had been a different kind of flying, and it had been...

Amazing was a clichéd word , but it was true, and Rod had been everything he'd ever wanted in a partner, and nothing he could ever have long term, and he was there on the mission. He should have asked a few more questions about what the guy did for a living. He probably should have done a lot of things, actually, that he hadn't done. John was full of that kind of stuff, full of doing things he shouldn't have and the exact opposite. That was all he could think of to explain his ex-wife.

But since when was he supposed to think that he'd run into his favorite whore, and find out the guy was an astrophysicist? Not just a run of the mill average one, either, but good enough to send on a one way trip through a Stargate, and maybe. Maybe one day he'd wrap his mind around that, too.

Yeah. No. That was definitely on the list with the ex-wife.

He heard the clearing of Rod -- Rodney's throat, and braced himself. He wasn't exactly sure for what, but knowing Rod... ney, it would be something.

"So. That was a pretty run of the mill mission for the SGC. It's, uh, good to see you, Major Sheppard. Again." There was a hint of nervousness, or maybe it was anticipation. John seriously needed to remind himself about the things he could and could not have.

Then again...

"I didn't recognize you at first." Broader shoulders. Broader chest. Face less sharp, and more unhappy. Definitely less orgasmic, anyway.

Less mellow. Less eager to please, definitely, but that could've been a case of time place and manner, a different persona for a different place. "Yes, well, I've been sent a few places between then and now. You still look..."

Yeah. Pretty much like himself. There was probably some grey mixed in here and there, mostly from too much worrying and too many crazy missions in the intervening year or so, but hey. Who didn't have a little by their mid-thirties? "Yeah?"

Oh, yeah. John didn't find Rodney any less attractive than he'd found Rod, to tell the truth. It was all a matter of degree, likes and dislikes. He was very familiar with his own list of those. "Like you used to." The edges of his mouth twitched upwards. "I, uh... It's sort of funny that we're both here. I wondered what you did."

"I never wondered." The truth was out of his mouth before he could stop it, and it looked like it was hitting with the force of a four megaton bomb. "It wasn't important to what we did. What we were was...." He was such shit at this. "...more important."

"What are we now?" Rodney lifted his chin a little, that same vaguely defiant motion that John remembered, and he wanted to reach his hand out and catch that chin.

"You're blocking the hallway is what you are." It was that Scottish doctor, loud enough to make John cringe.

John couldn't help smirking. Honest to God, he couldn't. "That, too." He stepped to the side and watched Rodney do the same. "McKay. I'm looking for a fourth for my off-world team."

That would be a pretty good way to get time alone with him, in one way or another.

At least a working excuse, because Rodney coming up to him like that, leaning up close to him and smiling, meant that he wasn't against working with John. Up close and personal, too. "I think I can trust you in a team situation."

Yeah. He was pretty sure he could trust Rodney to do as he was told, too. It was a pretty good thing. "Kind of what I thought about you."

"Do you, uh. Need to talk to Dr. Weir, or can we maybe adjourn to your quarters to discuss that?" Rodney shifted, moved a little closer to John under the guise of clearing the hallway.

"I think discussing it with Dr. Weir can wait until morning. Don't you?" It really could. John was sure of it.

"I think so." Rodney's eyebrows went up, and he gestured towards the rough quarters they'd all claimed close to the command center. They were living too close for much, and nobody had determined exactly how soundproof any of the walls were.

Yet.

"Good. Then let's let it wait then."

When they turned, John taking the lead, it only surprised him a little that he felt fingers idly pinch his ass.

Maybe they could just stick with a switch for the night. He hoped he could find something that would make do.


End file.
